


An Arranged Murder

by hatebeat



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatebeat/pseuds/hatebeat
Summary: The time for Silva to assume his place as the head of the Zoldyck household is drawing near.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tokiistheking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokiistheking/gifts).



His son was growing older.

Silva was both large and strong enough now that he was able to complete any objective that Zeno sent his way. Reconnaissance, assassinations, negotiations-- he excelled in each and every one. But now Silva had reached the point where Zeno couldn't help but admit it: his son was no longer a child. It was nearing time for Zeno to step down from his seat at the head of what was left of the Zoldyck family before the remaining members were eliminated. With only three Zoldycks left in the estate, it was a very real possibility in their line of work.

Ah, if only Agneta were still with him. The task of choosing a wife for their son wouldn't be so easy on his own. 

Following the Zoldyck tradition, his own mother had arranged for his marriage to Agneta, and Zeno couldn't have been more pleased with her decision. However, Silva was and had always been a willful child; Zeno was certain that he wouldn't accept just anyone his father placed before him.

So, Zeno did what any reasonable father would do: he hired a handful of assassins to make attempts on his son's life. 

These weren't just any assassins, however. Through a private network, he sought out young women from well-known killing groups, daughters and nieces of the Zoldycks' rivals and peers from around the known world. His own family was far from the only killers available for hire, even if they held the highest status. He doubted that any of the women he hired would have the skill to make it through the Mountain's security, however. What a shame. 

Agneta had only learned to kill after their marriage, and she worked fairly infrequently. As the heir of her generation, Zeno's own mother had been quite the talented assassin, but his father did not take up the trade at all, even after their union; he had been a younger Minboan Prince, and not accustomed to spilling blood with his own hands, yet he was able to bring the Zoldyck family additional wealth and status at the expense of his own family name. Many improvements in security and the training of butlers had been implemented by Zeno's father. 

So while nothing had been wrong with his own upbringing in Zeno's eyes, he thought that perhaps it would be best to provide a spouse for his son who already knew how the family business was run. For Silva's sake, at least.

Ah, it was a trial to decide whether or not to inform his son that there would be attempts made on his life. As a father, of course he feared that Silva would not survive one of the attacks. With Agneta's passing, and he had no desire to remarry in order to produce a new heir. As an assassin, however, Zeno had the utmost confidence in his son. In the end, he decided not to speak a word of it. The test would prove truer that way.

Unfortunately, results were less immediate than Zeno had anticipated. 

On a morning several weeks after he'd hired the four women, he entered the dining room and seated himself at the head of the table. As Zeno sipped his morning tea, a butler entered with his breakfast. He placed it on the table before him, then took a step back as Zeno surveyed the meal. When Zeno merely picked up his chopsticks and began eating, the butler finally spoke.

"There was an intruder early this morning, before sunrise."

Zeno was unfazed; there were frequent intruders, and few of them ever posed a true threat. 

"How far did this one get?" Zeno asked before popping a piece of tofu into his mouth. 

"She didn't make it more than two kilometers, sir. However, she did have an encounter with Mikke."

 _She_ , hm? Zeno hoped that it was indeed one of the women he'd hired. If not, he was going to have to see about getting a refund. It had been over a month by now, and two of the guilds had had the audacity to demand he pay up front in full. A bad practice, Zeno thought.

A Zoldyck's work was absolutely assured, and they never accepted more than half payment until after the target was eliminated. 

"And? Was she killed?"

"No, sir. She has escaped, and Mikke's left leg has been wounded. It seems that none of the security patrols were able to capture her."

Zeno's lips curled into a smile. If one of those women had been able to evade Mikke's attacks, she might be a strong candidate, indeed. But she had left the property, hadn't she? So perhaps she had seen all she needed of the Zoldyck's security, and given up.

Ah, how disappointing, if so. That just wouldn't do at all.


	2. Chapter 2

At five am, Silva began his training regimen. Just as he did every day, he woke, dressed, and went for his morning run with his pup, Xun: down the mountain, around the circumference, and back to the top. After that, a breakfast of fish, egg, and lentils before heading into the gymnasium for weight training. Today's plan was focused on lower body endurance, mostly squats and deadlifts. He had a forty minute break for meditation, followed by speed training with his training butlers. Around eleven, he retreated to his own quarters for a hot bath.

It was exactly the same as the morning previous, except that today happened to be his birthday. Birthdays were acknowledged, yet uncelebrated in the Zoldyck family, so Silva had no expectation that today would be different than any other.

At twelve thirty, Silva met his father in the main dining room to discuss the matters of the day over lunch. Today's appeared to be roast duck in lingon sauce with a cabbage apple salad, Silva noted as he sat before his plate. 

"Happy Birthday, Silva," his father said as Silva began to cut into his duck. He thanked him with a nod of acknowledgement.

"Good afternoon, Father. Have we received any work for the day?"

A bit selfishly, Silva almost hoped that they hadn't. He didn't mind his work, but he had thought of perhaps leaving the Mountain today to go to the cinema. Last time he had been down into the town, there was an advertisement for a film that looked interesting, and he remembered that it came out today, because it was his birthday.

He supposed that it would still be playing for some time, but perhaps as a birthday gift to himself, he could go this afternoon.

"For today?" Zeno asked, cutting his meat. "Not today, no." Silva felt his heart lighten a fraction. Perhaps if he had the rest of the day free, he wouldn't even go to the cinema here in town, but further out into the city. He didn't like the city all the time, but sometimes it was fun to escape the solitude of the Mountain.

Home was a bit empty, he was starting to realise after two decades.

"However, there is a work matter that I'd like to discuss with you," his father said, plucking him back from his thoughts. 

"Alright," Silva said, chewing a sliver of apple. "What is it?"

"We've received a multiple-target hit from a government official in Suis," Zeno said. 

"Ochima, correct?" Silva had been to the country on a handful of occasions, but not in the past several years. 

Father nodded. "I've been thinking about it, and I've decided that I'd like you to take on this job alone."

Alone? Suddenly, Silva was reeling. It wasn't that he thought he _couldn't_ do it, but it was a job that required multiple deaths in a country far from home. He couldn't think of any reason his father wouldn't want to see that he had backup for such a job. They often worked together even on single-target hits, after all. As long as the other was free, there was no reason not to work together. 

Unless...

"Are you testing me?" Silva asked directly. 

"Mm, I suppose you can consider it a test of sorts," Zeno agreed. 

He frowned. "Do we have information about the targets? Names, locations? The reason for the hit?"

"Ah, some. As I said, the request comes from the government. The targets are high-ranking members of a gang which is terrorizing Suis, Wartaw, and the surrounding suburbs. They have resisted and evaded law enforcement, so the government appears to have given up and settled on having them killed. So I've received some names, personal information, and images from surveillance cameras, but not enough for all eight of the targets. You will need to do some research on your own."

"So it will take some time," Silva stated, biting back a sigh. He would be in Ochima for at least a month, he estimated. He looked at his plate, feeling his appetite diminishing. "Where will I be staying?" 

"Oh, did I forget to mention it? I'll be leaving all of the travel and lodging arrangements up to you, Silva." His father gave him a meaningful look. "This is what it means to be the head of the household. You are old enough now, you must learn how to operate independently within our business. Isn't it about time that you started thinking about beginning your own family?"

"As you say," Silva said stiffly. He had given very little thought to things like marriage or children, in truth. Occasionally, of course, he would have thoughts such as, _When I'm head of household..._ , or _When I have children..._ , but that was as far as it had gone. He was looking forward to certain aspects of marriage, however; he had the self-control of any self-respecting Zoldyck, but he wouldn't say that the idea of sex hadn't, at some points, tortured him more effectively than the torture he regularly endured for training. 

"Good," said Zeno. "Then I'd like for you to be on your way within the next twenty-four hours."

Silva set down his chopsticks. "May I be excused, then? I have to begin preparations."

"When you've finished eating," Zeno sternly said. 

Silva scowled, but he supposed that he might as well. If he was going to be staying in Ochima for so long, he might not have the chance to have a nice meal in front of him for a while.

 

\---

 

At nine in the morning, Silva was twenty years and one day old, and boarding a private airship from the Zoldyck fleet. A second airship was departing for Wartaw alongside him carrying four butlers whom he had decided to station throughout the region in case he needed backup.

He said goodbye to Xun, but not to his father. He and his father would be in contact with one another daily, or close to it, while he was away. A test it may be, but any good assassin knew the importance of keeping up proper communication.

The flight to Suis was set to take twelve to fourteen hours. Once the ship was airborne, Silva spent an hour practicing exercises which required no equipment. His training routine was going to be interrupted for some time, but he would have to do what he was able.

He ate brunch after exercising while looking over the paperwork Father had given him the day before. There were very few clear photographs available of his targets. Of the eight, he was able to see the faces of only two. Skeleton Crew was the name they called themselves, and Silva studied the photographs, trying to find some sort of color or insignia they wore in common, but it was no good. 

So he felt forced to make a bad decision: once he arrived, he would go speak to the client directly. 

For the time being, however, there was little else he could do. Silva spent the remaining hours of the flight reading, sleeping, and daydreaming.

And for part of the time, feeling just a little bit nervous.

Mizuta woke him from sleep when they were forty kilometers outside of Suis. Silva helped himself to the back of the ship to enjoy the view of his new, temporary home. 

Both buildings and homes were humble and drab. All looked the same, with their white walls and brown roofs. The trees and grass were a vibrant green, however, and there was no sign of snow. When he had left home this morning, the Mountain had still been three quarters covered in a white blanket. 

The greenery was refreshing, Silva decided, and he prepared for landing.


	3. Chapter 3

She watched the airship approach through binoculars from the barn's roof. The ship's envelope was a darker blue, and the gondola had the slight heptagonal shape which divulged its origins in Padokea. There was no carrier brand labeled anywhere on the ship, so it must belong to a private fleet. And above all, the ship was slowing to a descent.

There was no question that this was the ship Kikyou had been waiting for.

She swung back into the barn loft's open window and leapt to the ground floor, setting off on foot in the direction of the ship. Her training allowed her to nearly fly over rooftops with the utmost agility, but in the countryside, she was relegated to the rock and grass beneath her. 

As she suspected, the ship wasn't going all the way into the city. If her target was to disembark here, this job may prove even easier than Kikyou had originally thought. Well-placed throwing knives ought to take care of him from a distance, which seemed absurd after seeing firsthand how thoroughly guarded the target's home had been!

A lone, spindly tree stood in the field about twenty-five to thirty meters from where the ship was descending. It was too small to climb and too skinny to hide behind, but Kikyou was growing more and more skilled with _Nen_. She pressed her back to the tree and summoned her aura around her, using it the systematically manipulate her clothing and the visible areas of her skin into the same colour and texture as the bark of the tree.

From there, she was just close enough to see when the gondola's door slid open. She fingered the throwing knives within her sleeves, being careful only to move as much as the night breeze would make plausible. 

A man and woman exited first, both wearing suits. Even from this distance, Kikyou sensed a strength to them. She took a peak at them using _gyo_ , and sure enough, she was able to see that their auras were reigned in close to their bodies.

The woman stood guard at the door while the man expanded his aura to about ten meters, then walked the perimeter of the airship. Her target was likely to exit any moment now. Kikyou drew out a knife slowly, inch by inch.

This was the first time she had been allowed to travel abroad for a target, and it was going to end up being so easy. She couldn't wait to make Yutahito and Ariko proud!

Suddenly, the gondola's door frame was filled by the shape of a man made entirely from muscle. Kikyou's finger twitched on her knife, but... No. There was no opening. His aura was as massive as his body, and _raging_ around him. He hadn't taken more than one step off of the ship before his head turned and he looked straight at her.

No, that was impossible! She was _perfectly_ disguised, and so was her aura. But he certainly looked in her direction.

And when he did, Kikyou's breath caught. She had missed her chance before it had even come.

\---

By ten am, he had eaten and was back on the city's streets. Suis was even greener by the light of day, and the weather was fair. Public transportation was available, but Silva preferred to stay on his feet, get his bearings in the city that would be his temporary home.

Not only that, but he wasn't entirely sure how to use it.

Silva didn't pause to consider his next move when he approached City Hall. He was up the steps and through the front door without a thought. Inside was more chaotic than he'd expected, but what appeared to be a reception desk was tucked away to the left.

The receptionist hardly looked at him as he approached. 

"I'm here to see Belslav Zercher," he informed her.

"Fourth floor," she said, still staring at her computer screen.

Silva nodded and turned to the elevator. He shared the ride with a nervous looking woman who rushed out onto the third floor when the doors had hardly opened. 

The fourth floor was a series of closed office doors. Down the hallway in one direction he saw nothing but a sign for restrooms, but the other way appeared to be yet another desk.

When he repeated his request to the second receptionist, he picked up his desk phone. "Mr. Zercher, you have a guest." A long pause. "Yes, yes. Of course." He pressed 'hold' on the phone dock.

"Mr. Zercher is busy at the moment. Could I have your name?"

"Silva Zoldyck."

If the receptionist recognised the name, he hardly reacted. Instead, he switched back into his phone call and repeated it to his boss. A series of understanding _mmhm_ s and _yes_ es later, the receptionist replaced the phone in its cradle.

"I'd love to set up an appointment for you," the man said coolly. "Let's see, how about next Monday?"

"I'll see him today," Silva insisted. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Zoldyck, but--"

Silva had stopped listening. He turned away from the man at the desk and headed back down the hall. There was a bench near the elevator, and he took the liberty of seating himself. Even if Belslav intended to hide in his office the entire day, he would have to leave at some point. Silva could wait.

He would prefer to be out of this place sooner than later, however. Silva's first night in Suis had been rough. Poor planning had essentially left him stranded overnight. He'd followed his GPS to the address where he had arranged lodging, only to find that it was merely an empty lot. He'd already wired the money before departing from Dentora without realising that something like this done long-distance might be a scam.

So far, his first attempt at making his own travel arrangements had been a failure. He had ended up spending the rest of the night in a shabby hotel nearby, but he hadn't even thought about sleeping. The remainder of the dark hours were spent scouring for what information he could: the location of City Hall, for instance.

He'd like to get out of this building with time to find another place to call his base, but the hours began to tick by. The receptionist attempted to force him to leave thrice within the next hour, but Silva did not budge. 

Eventually, an unfamiliar face crept into his line of sight. 

Belslav Zercher was a small man with tawny hair; thin, wire-framed glasses; and an ill-fitting suit. A nervous smile was on his lips as he wrung his hands together. 

"Mr. Zoldyck, if you would please step into my office..."

Silva got to his feet without a moment's hesitation and followed. As soon as the door shut behind him, Zercher's face contorted from simpering hospitality to one of dismay.

"What were you thinking, coming _here_?" 

"I needed addition information, so I came to get it."

"Needed additional... You could have _called_ , at least... But no, the phones here are monitored..."

Silva had assumed as much. It was a government building, after all. 

"But to have an _assassin_ here, in my office?" he continued in a hushed and frantic tone. "You realise that I didn't have any authorization to take these, ah, these measures, don't you?"

"If you're worried, then give me the information I need so I can be on my way." Silva didn't want to stay in Ochima any longer than he had to, after all. Zercher wasn't the only one impatient for the end of this encounter.

"Yes, yes." Zercher sunk into his chair, resigned. "What is it, then?" He absently picked up a pen, clicking it nervously.

"I received too little information on my targets. I don't mind having to do a some research, but I don't even have names for all of them."

Zercher gave a hollow chuckle. "Honestly, the more of them you take down, the better. I'll pay as much as I have to in order to get rid of the Skeleton Crew."

Silva frowned. He was sent here to kill eight people, and he intended only to kill those eight. 

"I came here for a specific job. If you'd like to renegotiate..."

Zercher glanced nervously at the clock. "Yes, of course. Look." He began to jot something down on a piece of paper. "Here is the login for the city archives. Police records, news stories, even security feeds-- it's all in here, if you take the time to look. The eight who... Your targets, they're the ones who are organizing this whole shebang, alright?" Zercher smiled apprehensively. "Just... just take out the leaders." 

Silva took the paper and looked it over.

"Now, listen, this is my personal login, so, so make sure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

He stared at it intently for a moment, then slid the paper back across the desk. "I've memorized it, so you don't need to worry. I'll be on my way."

"Y-yes, of course," Zercher said, bemused. "Now please, _don't_ come back to this office--"

"I can see myself out. My father or I will contact you when the job is finished."

Silva let the door fall shut behind him. That had nearly been a waste of time. 

He would look into the archives later as soon as possible, but first, he needed to find a place to stay.


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of a telephone ringing ripped Silva from sleep. It was dark, but the phone was close enough that he could grab it before his eyes had even adjusted. 

"Yes?"

"Good morning, Silva. I've received a message from your client."

Silva quickly searched the room, gathering his bearings. Bright red numbers on an alarm clock blared _5:17_. Typically, he'd be awake by now. 

"What is it?" he asked, shaking off the remnants of sleep. An assassin had to be able to snap out of sleep instantly. Hypothetically, his life was under constant threat.

"He asks that you not contact him again. He also wired us an additional five million jeni," his father said as he chuckled. 

Silva scowled into his pillow. Zercher was such a spineless creature. He had the nerve to hire an assassin, but not to face one. Silva couldn't respect him, but he supposed he didn't have to. He didn't particularly respect any of their clients; if you wanted someone dead, you should have the nerve to kill them yourself. That line of thought would bankrupt them, though.

"And?"

"Nothing further," said Zeno. "But you know that it's bad business to accost the client, Silva."

"I needed information," Silva retorted. "And I got it."

"Well," Zeno said, obviously amused despite his admonishments, "it seems you made a strong impression."

Silva was silent for a moment. What was the purpose of this call? He was still a little bit angry with his father, though distance had marginally weakened it.

"I'm going to get back to work," Silva finally said, and ended the call.

He rolled over, now able to make out the shapes in the dark room. Without turning on the light, he lowered himself to the floor and began his morning pushups. A new routine for a new city.

\---

Kikyou had lost her target. She would not admit to the fact, but it was nevertheless reality. She had not contacted the household about this. She did not feel the need to. Kikyou had no doubt she would be able to find him again, and soon.

Mr. Kitazawa had seen to her well-being since she had arrived in the city. Thanks to him, she was staying in a five-star hotel on the same block as the Japponese embassy in the heart of downtown Suis. Kitazawa had also already put in a word with his associates for need of information. 

As a member of the Fujiwara family, she had become accustomed to the Japponese mafia's support. She hadn't quite expected that there would be mafia members to come to her aid all the way out in Eastern Ochima, but she welcomed the assistance, even if she felt that she didn't particularly need it.

As nice as her room was, she had to admit that she didn't think she would find her target in this ritzy of an area. And as kind as Kitazawa had been, she was beginning to grow frustrated. He was slowing her down! 

Kikyou left her room at eight in the morning to begin her work, only to find Kitazawa waiting in the lobby. He insisted that he treat her to breakfast and took her to an elegant restaurant, home to two of the country's premier pastry chefs. She'd eaten ricotta and pumpkin with black truffle, folded pastries flavoured with butter and rosewater, and drank a tea infused with saffron. The food had been delicious, with flavours completely foreign to her, but it had wasted nearly two hours of her day. 

She was anxious to get on with her mission, not sit around having breakfast all morning. This was not a vacation, it was a job. Ochima was far from the worst place she'd ever been, she was ready to finish her job and return home nonetheless.

And more than that, the strength of her target had enthralled her. Kikyou absolutely had to find him again! Not just because he was her target; there was an even more personal motive behind it.

After breakfast, Kikyou tried to make a break for it, but instead, Kitazawa insisted on taking her for a tour of the city. She didn't doubt that it would be useful to learn her way around, but Kikyou didn't intend to stay here long enough for it to matter. 

It was a simple job. She would kill her target and go home! Even if he was almost frighteningly strong. Ariko would never have sent her on this mission if she thought Kikyou couldn't handle it.

The tour of Suis, while rather stunning, had consumed much of the rest of the day, and by the end of it, Kitazawa insisted on treating Kikyou to dinner. Resigned to get to work the following dawn, she accompanied him to what seemed to be the city's most opulent restaurant, despite feeling considerably underdressed.

Kikyou was a bit sullen as they waited for their food and didn't make any attempts at conversation. Mr. Kitazawa's kindness couldn't buy back her lost time. 

"So, your target," Kitazawa finally said, and Kikyou bristled. He dared to bring up such matters _here_? Though, she supposed it very unlikely anybody understood the language they were speaking; Jappon was, for the most part, closed to outsiders. In order to get in, foreigners needed a rather difficult-to-obtain visa, and information about historical and political matters was absolutely off limits to non-ethnic Japponese, even if they did manage to get inside. All foreign trade came in and out of the country via a small port in Mijikasaki.

In short, people who were never citizens of Jappon had next to no chance of knowing the language.

"Have you heard something about him?" Kikyou asked eagerly.

"Not yet," Kitazawa laughed. "I'm just wondering why you're after him."

Kikyou took a sip of the drink Mr. Kitazawa had ordered her. It was something she'd never heard of, but it filled her mouth with an eruption of flavour. "I was sent to kill him. That's all."

"Do you have a plan?"

"I need to get more information," she stubbornly said, heat rising to her cheeks. She had lost her target, and after wasting the entire day, it would be even more difficult to find him! He had to understand that, right?

"About that, I may have some resources..."

As he began, though, the waiter returned, and set before her a plate of trout, colourful with a thin, red, berry sauce, along with sautéed chantarelle. Conversation with the waiter deflected from what hints Mr. Kitazawa may have been about to offer, and as they began to eat, the conversation turned, uselessly, to their food. 

Kikyou was about to burst with frustration!

"You said something about resources," Kikyou began. 

Kitazawa let the hand holding his fork rest on the table for a moment, and he smiled benignly. 

"How far have you come in your training, Miss Kikyou?"

She furrowed her brow. Obviously she was strong enough to be sent across the world after a target, wasn't she? "I've served the Fujiwara family for seven years now, long and ably enough that they've gone through the trouble of officially adopting me."

"Their only daughter is older and married, if I recall," Kitazawa commented, as if Kikyou didn't already know. 

"Yes."

"And they've trained you to become a _shinobi_ , as much for protection as for personal reasons, I assume..."

"I suppose," Kikyou said, shifting uncomfortably. There had been rumours that she had been adopted only so she could be married off, to solidify their family's power. Kikyou didn't particularly mind; even if that were the case, she still had been strong enough to have been selected, right?

"I'm just curious, then," Kitazawa chewed for a moment. "Have they begun to train you in the shinobi's feminine arts?"

Kikyou's face scrunched in disgust. First of all, she was sixteen; of course she had already learned such things. 

Secondly, she had no reason to discuss that with this man!

"Does this have any relevance to the resources you mentioned?" Kikyou asked coolly. 

"Well," he smiled, "perhaps you might find me more forthcoming if you have something to offer in return."

\---

Silva had spent the majority of the day scouring the city archives. Zercher's login key hadn't granted him unlimited access, but it had presented him more than he could hope to sift through in a lifetime. After an hour of searching out news reports of violence perpetrated by the Skeleton Crew, he had begun to put together a mental map of the city and its hot spots.

Following that, he attempted to access the cameras, which prompted for an additional security code. Zercher turned out to be a simple enough man that he used a password identical to the first.

Sorting through the security footage proved to be a daunting task. Silva spent much more time watching pedestrians crossing streets than he would have liked. By the time he started seeing some of the faces he was searching for, the building he was using for his research was nearing closing time. He could resume his search the following morning.

But for now, he had already put together an idea of where the Crew's base might be. 

Silva planned to spend the night on patrol. If he could get close enough to where the Crew was operating from, he might be back to sleeping in his own bed by the end of the week.


	5. Chapter 5

Silva walked along the river, through the harbor, past the towering church which defined the city's skyline. It looked impressive enough from a distance, but Silva had passed it just yesterday and seen the graffiti and general devastation that had befallen its lower floors. News stories and police reports he'd skimmed in the archives had painted enough of a picture of the destruction that the Skeleton Crew had brought to this city and its neighbours that Silva didn't have to wonder at who was responsible. 

The Istor region of Ochima had been on the decline in recent years since the Council which ran the state had been replaced with entirely new members. Recovery efforts had generally failed the public, allowing for soaring crime rates and the formation of revolutionary gangs, such as the one he was hunting.

By his age, Silva knew better than to get emotionally invested in any aspect of his job, but from an unbiased standpoint, he couldn't help thinking that the citizens had a right to be upset with their government. Silva would kill who he was paid to kill, however.

Street names were starting to look and sound familiar based on what he'd seen on the maps. He couldn't help but notice the expertly placed cameras watching his every move, especially not now that he'd been using the footage for his own gains. Even though he had been hired by a government official, he assumed his client preferred him to keep his assassinations off the record. 

That was just fine with Silva. He'd rather keep his methods a secret. ...Not that he thought he would be slow enough for a camera to catch his movements.

He stopped at an intersection. A boarded-up apothecary stared him down from across the street. The adjacent corner was home to an operational convenience store with barred windows. Silva glanced at the street signs. Canton and Weber. He crossed the road and loitered outside the convenience store for about ten minutes, observing the clientele. A woman who left looked familiar. Silva had almost definitely seen her on the cameras. He let her get a block's head start, then began to follow.

Another block and a left turn, and the chase was already at an end. The woman had entered a bar. The entrance was rather lavishly lit, Silva noted, which seemed out of place in a neighbourhood where half the street lamps needed replaced. Silva made a detailed mental note of his surroundings before entering. 

The bar was not only nice inside, but lively as well. Silva made his way to the bar, where he was immediately recognised as an outsider.

"Traveling alone, my friend?" the bartender asked genially, as he began to mix Silva's lemon and brandy cocktail. 

"I'm here on business." 

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, because the man gave him a curious look. Silva supposed it was true that business was not doing well in the city's current economic decline. Fortunately, the bartender didn't press. He simply set the drink on the counter in front of Silva.

"That will be three hundred jeni, my good man."

Cheaper than at home. Silva placed his credit card on the counter.

"Ah, I'm sorry, but I can't accept that, sir. Do you have another form of payment?"

"This is a Zenus," Silva argued, putting his finger down on the logo. "It's accepted anywhere in the V5."

"Yes," the bartender agreed, but his tone was growing less friendly. "But we can't process any card transactions here. Can you pay, or no?"

Silva reigned himself in. He had his suspicions about this bar, and if he caused a scene here, he was going to have a much more difficult time completing his job.

"I've got it." He found a five hundred jeni note and slid it across the bar, taking his drink without another word. Silva seated himself at a small table for two, noticing that he was gaining unwanted attention.

As he sipped his drink, he collected his thoughts. A bar this nice in this neighbourhood almost certainly meant that it was built with illegally obtained means. The fact that they wouldn't accept international credit was a major red flag. The woman he had followed in was now nowhere to be found.

Silva hated having to do all of this detective work, in truth. He wasn't unintelligent, but he had been training since he was a child to _kill_ , not to solve crimes. Killing was easy. And with as many as eight targets, he'd like to get on with it.

Which was why he was making a plan as he drank. There were two men in the bar at that very moment who were members of the Skeleton Crew. Likely more, but Silva did not know their faces. It wouldn't be difficult to kill both of the men, but there was the question of what to do if one left before the other. Go after the first, and leave the second? Or would the other way around be wiser? Perhaps if he left the first, he would meet up with the second later. But perhaps if he let the first go, he wouldn't get a chance with the second.

There was no use thinking too hard about it. Silva wasn't that sort of person. He was a man of action. He'd decide what to do when the time came.

Unfortunately, two hours passed, and the time had not come. Silva had made his way through four drinks and was nursing a fifth. His training made him more resistant than most to the effects of alcohol, but he was by no means immune. Moreover, he was running out of cash on hand, and he was getting irritated with the bartender's continued attempts to probe at conversation. 

Silva made a decision. 

He finished his drink, and retrieved a last glass of gin and vermouth from the bar.

"Must have been stood up by my associate," he offered as a final comment to the bartender. When he returned to the table, he sat in the opposite chair, facing his targets directly. There was something to be said about confrontation.

He looked them over appraisingly and conspicuously, garnering their attention. When they returned his stare, it was easy to quickly look away, to feign such clumsiness. He made it obvious he was watching them until there was nearly tangible tension in the air, then made the second move.

Hard eye contact. And then, he stood and strode out of the bar, onto the streets.

Silva was in control of the situation now. They were following him for certain, but Silva kept his pace as slow as could be conceivable, and expanded his aura twenty meters around. He kept enough of it against his skin that he'd be unscathed if they resorted to guns.

The two men exited the bar in pursuit, but Silva was the one leading the chase. He made it half a block, then after a glance back at them, took off running. Their footsteps echoed after him, but to their credit, they did not call out. Silva realised that the alcohol in him was making him a fraction of a second slower than he would be under regular circumstances, but it was hardly a handicap.

There was an empty lot ahead, and Silva dodged to the right. Another quick right, and he was in between two buildings. A survey of his immediate surroundings led him to believe the building on his left was currently unoccupied and, from the looks of it, probably permanently abandoned, and Silva melted inside it like a shadow.

Glass crunched beneath his feet. With his _en_ , he monitored the men approaching.

They kicked in the back door, and Silva pulled his aura tight to his skin just as the gunfire began. Only a handful of bullets, and those that came close enough to hit slid off his skin.

The first man narrowed his eyes, keeping his useless gun trained on Silva. 

"You have business with us, boy?"

"You're Juro Klimek, correct?" Silva asked frankly.

"You know me, huh? Not like it'll do you any good."

"What ar--"

The second man had begun to speak, but Silva had already moved. With his hands sharpened into knives, he tore through the chests of both men simultaneously. Juro's gun clattered to the floor, and the unnamed one fell with his still in hand. Two down, out of eight.

Silva knelt down next to the second dead man and pulled a weathered wallet from his jeans. There was no form of identification, but he did find a credit card bearing the name Kozi Chevelo, and barring it being a fake, a name was just what Silva needed from him.

If only Xun were there, he could have gotten the scent, maybe led Silva to the rest of the gang.

He got to his feet, ready to call his father to confirm the hit, but as he stood, he noticed a smear of fresh, wet blood on the wall in front of him. 

"Sloppy work," he murmured to himself. Perhaps he could blame it on the alcohol.


	6. Chapter 6

Kikyou hardly remembered finishing her dinner. It was unlike her to become anxious, though under the circumstances, it made some sense. This was her first real mission that _mattered_ , after all. She could not mess this up.

To Mr. Kitazawa's credit, his demeanor hadn't changed an ounce after revealing his intentions. Many men would become notably cooler, or at least more visibly smug. Kitazawa remained a gentleman.

She managed only a few bites of her dessert before he paid what she assumed to be an exorbitant bill. A car was waiting for them as soon as they stepped outside-- Saheltan-made, and notably pricier than any of the cars she'd seen since her arrival in the Istor region. In the back seat, Mr. Kitazawa behaved himself except for the casual placement of a tempted hand upon her thigh.

It struck her that he might expect _her_ to seduce _him_. She may have been trained in the erotic arts, but she was certain that he was already well enough seduced.

It wasn't a long trip back to the hotel, where he followed her from the car.

"You're going to see me back to my room?" she asked with a coy smile. 

"Of course." His lips pressed together in a tight smirk. "It would be improper to leave you unattended, Miss Fujiwara."

Kikyou subtly took a deep breath. The use of the surname strengthened her, gave her power. It reminded her why she was here, why she had to do the things she did. It was a souvenir which indicated her own greatness.

Kitazawa kept his hands behind his back, even in the elevator. He allowed Kikyou to unlock her own door, and he shut it behind her.

And only then did he allow the slimy smile to spread across his lips.

Kikyou would not let herself be daunted by such a simple thing as that! She returned the smile- a rather wicked one, even- and reached up to pull the ribbon from her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders.

"Shall we?" Mr. Kitazawa seemed quite pleased with himself as he gestured further into the room.

"Certainly." Kikyou moved ahead of him and seated herself on the edge of the bed, shifting to let the front of her kimono loosen marginally. Now to see what type of man Kitazawa was.

It was somewhat unsurprising when he sat down next to her, rather than proceed more indecently. It seemed that he wanted to prove that his gentleman act was genuine, but Kikyou knew better; Kitazawa was a member of the Japponese Mafia, after all. 

He touched her shoulders, her hair, and he started to kiss her. For a moment, she feared he might say something awkward. His lips were mildly chapped and his kiss tasted oddly of tobacco, though she hadn't seen him smoking once during the time in which she'd been accompanying him. 

Kitazawa's hands began to wander up her sides. When his thumb brushed over her nipple, she gave him the soft sighs of pleasure he was undoubtedly waiting for, and his lips moved to the side of her neck. Fingers began to pry at the entrance of her kimono, and hot hands soon found her breasts. His lips soon followed.

As his tongue made its way toward her nipples, she slid her fingers desperately through his hair, as if she were overcome with the sensation.

Her hands, however, were coated with aura. Kikyou's fingers trailed down roughly to touch his face, and Kitazawa became her puppet.

" _You're going to do what I say_ ," she commanded in a whisper. The Mafia had a tough reputation, yet few of them were _Nen_ users. Men like this were almost too easy to deal with. 

It was almost a pity; if he hadn't tried to take advantage of her, she wouldn't have needed to resort to this.

" _Get off of me._ " He did, and stood back looking dazed. Mr. Kitazawa no longer had any will of his own. At least, as long as Kikyou's aura remained inside of him.

She moved over to the desk next to the bed, looking for something to write on. There was a plastic menu from which she could order room service, and a holy book. This country's unfamiliar gods meant nothing to her, so she flipped through the book until she found a page with little text, and then forced it into Kitazawa's waiting hands, along with a pen.

"You're going to write down instructions," she ordered him. "Exactly how I can access the resources I need in order to find my target."

His hand began moving across the page, despite hardly seeming to see it. Kikyou watched as he scribbled, to make sure the writing was legible. As it was in their native language, she at least had no fears of it falling into the wrong hands. Not that she was ever careless.

When he was finished, she snatched it from him, and pushed him down to his knees. Kikyou was truly able to admire her own power. Powerful enough to become a Fujiwara, even if she had been born as so much less. Powerful enough to get what she wanted. The way Kitazawa was right now, she could even use him to get her off, if she wanted to.

For just a moment, Kikyou considered it. But she had work to do.

Acting quickly, she stripped the top sheet from the bed and tied Kitazawa's hands together behind his back. Killing him would be far easier, but the Mafia was on good terms with her family, and she could not risk damaging that. Yutahito would certainly be cross with her if it came to that.

Instead, Kikyou manipulated his skin and clothing to match the pattern of the carpet, then rolled him beneath the bed. Her aura would wear off of him in around an hour, but she would be long gone by then.

\---

 

The Japponese embassy was fortunately closed at this hour, but Kitazawa's passcode granted her simple access into his dark office. In order to avoid the cameras, she had manipulated her own appearance to blend in better to the walls as she made her way through the building, but once she was sitting in front of Kitazawa's network terminal, she knew that most of the danger had passed. 

Her main concern was Kitazawa coming to. Her hotel was practically next door, and she had no delusions that her restraints would hold him for too long. 

Kikyou assumed his pride would be too injured to report to his comrades that he'd been overpowered by a young girl, and hoped that she'd be finished with her target before he could come after her for revenge. Hopefully he would be too embarrassed to go that far.

Apparently the city of Suis kept quite detailed archives, and much of it in the form of live security video. Kikyou had, of course, noticed cameras perched on street corners, but she'd dismissed them as mere traffic cameras, common in some municipalities. This was exactly what she was looking for, although it was clear that Kitazawa's system of accessing the feeds was an illegal, backdoor route. 

Once she was able to open the video streams, she quickly found out how to rewind them and switch to adjacent cameras. It took some time, but the city wasn't as large as some, and much of the population appeared to be averse to going out after dark; not all of the city appeared as well-maintained as the area she was staying in.

One after another, she flicked through the images, seeing a lot of nothing. Faster and faster she pushed _next_ , the images flashing before her eyes. And then...!

She had to backtrack through six cameras by the time she realised that she'd seen an intriguing sign of life. A man bigger than any had a right to be walking up the exterior stairs of what appeared to be an apartment building. It was almost certainly...!

Kikyou began making mental notes-- memorizing the area, the building, the time, which door he was entering. She knew where he was _right this moment_. But almost more intriguing to her was where he had been. It wasn't as simple a matter as merely rewinding the tapes, but switching from camera to camera as she rewound to backtrack him through his night.

Interesting. There was a gap in which no camera tracked his movement for over two hours. He had been at an intersection, and then simply vanished. When she picked up the trail again, it was with the men he'd murdered tailing him.

Zoldyck was an assassin, which made him just as dangerous as her. Who was he here to kill? That was Kikyou's first question. That was the question that would make all the difference.


End file.
